Elias's Daughters and The Devils Mill

By Theresa Munoz

"Leon my love, I have only a few minutes before I must be back for my curtain call. The plans, are they in place?" "Yes, they are. All is now set in motion and there is no turning back. Go quickly, my love, and dance our Mazurka as you have never danced before." Leon released her hand and she was gone. It was time now. Leon was ready to open the red-heart-decorated shoebox. The next morning his body—cold to the touch—would be found. Valentine cards from every year of their married life were scattered across the bed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9781779417350

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Elias’s Daughters and The Devils Mill

Theresa Munoz

Elias’s Daughters and The Devils Mill

Copyright © 2024 by Theresa Munoz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-1-77941-734-3 (Hardcover)

978-1-77941-733-6 (Paperback)

978-1-77941-735-0 (eBook)

Contents

Toronto 1986 LEON

Vienna January 1889

Vienna 1892

Lilit Paris 1896

Paris 1900

Kiev October 1905

Honorata

Paris 1905

Lemberg Amber-eyed Fox 1905

Rumblings Begin April 12 1908 Lemberg

Maria 1910 Lemberg

Eliasz 4 Weeks Earlier

Stefania – Sadowa Wisznia 1910

The Wake

He Prays but has a devil under the skin Prodigal son returns home 1910

Balaban

Baba

The Vagrant

When Things Changed

Frederick

Samuel 1910 Sadowa Wizsnia

Samuel and Etta

Copernicus Street Lemberg 1912

Devils Mill 1913

Lemberg June 1 1914

(Ferdinand assassinated in Sarajevo 28th)

War Sadowa Wisnia

Russian Deluge War September 3 1914

Two Worlds Collide the Battle for Lemberg 1918

Lieb Lwow 1921

Lwow 1924

The New World 1930

Stefa Sadowia Wisnia 1930

Russia 1942 Nachthexen

Budapest 1944

Paris 1944

Toronto Autumn 1986

Eve of Valentine Day 1986 Coperincus Lodge

A Wolf, meeting with a Lamb astray from the fold, resolved not to lay violent hands on him, but to find some plea to justify to the Lamb the right to eat him. He thus addressed him: Sir, last year you grossly insulted me. Indeed, bleated the Lamb in a mournful tone of voice, I was not then born. Then the Wolf said, You feed in my pasture. No good sir, replied the Lamb, I have not yet tasted grass. Again, said the Wolf, You dink of my well. No, exclaimed the Lamb, I never yet drank the water, for as yet my mother’s milk is both food and drink to me. Upon which the Wolf seized him and ate him up saying, Well! I won’t remain supperless, even though you refute every one of my imputations.

Moral: The tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyranny, and it is useless for the innocent to try by reasoning to get justice, when the oppressor intends to be unjust.

Aesop’s Fables

Toronto 1986 LEON

Eve of St. Valentine’s Day

With his back against the wall, he sat up straight upon his twin size bed, laying his novel down upon the flowered comforter. He was still a tall man even at the ripe old age of 85. He did not suffer the disadvantage of loss of stature that afflicted so many seniors his age. His shoulders still strong and legs still long ensured he was quite comfortable using his bed as a comfy chair. Shifting sideways, he allowed his stocking feet fall gently to the floor. Standing up now, he raised his hands high. Taking a full deep breath before bending downwards, he exhaled as he touched his toes. It was a nighttime ritual he borrowed from his grandfather.

His balance was that of a fifty-year-old, his doctor had said, adding that a few of his patients, with the same remarkable balance, were retired roof layers. Leon told the doctor he did run along rooftops as a youth in his home country, but not as a roofer, just as a young rash man full of vim and vigour looking for adventure. The doctor asked if he did find adventure on a rooftop. Leon responded with just a smile. But in his mind’s eye, he could see her as she was in all her youthful beauty.

He had come full circle it seemed. Born on Copernicus Street in one city and now living in Copernicus Retirement home in a country not of his birthplace. He knew this would be his last address. So…so many addresses over the years.

It was late, dark, and chilly outside. His room was on the ground floor. He had a partial view of Lake Ontario’s frozen shoreline, but the best view in town was right below him. Some would call it an eyesore, but not him – the Toronto Transit’s Car House storage track was literary full of energy and spark – he chuckled to himself. The Car House held all of Toronto’s west end streetcars overnight. He did not mind the close proximity to the Car House. Others in the area complained of the noise and the vibration. There was even an amusing name, used by some, to describe the metal upon steel rail screeching sound. Wheel squeal they called it. So, a Noise Pollution Committee was formed. He was asked to join the committee, but humbly declined the offer, citing his other commitments. He then was asked to sign a petition and complied graciously by adding his signature. He was a gentleman of course and it was no skin off his nose after all. He always tried to respect peoples’ opinions even when he disagreed and he did disagree often. He could be a commiserate diplomat when required. It helped early on by keeping under the radar so to speak.

The last of the cars were now returning. Evening shift finishing for the drivers who most likely would be keen to be on their way home. He wondered if others were like him in finding the noise, the lights and even the sounds of the electrical sparks emanating from the overhead cables of the streetcars invigorating and soothing at the same time. He took a breath and closed his eyes and remembered another place, another time…The tram was packed. Only twenty-three years old - he was about to start a new life an ocean away with the love of his life. No bans read out in church as was customary. A quick ceremony by candlelight in the home of his father-in-law Eliasz Rubaj.

Exiting the tram with a group of party revellers allowed him the opportunity to blend in. Head down and keeping pace with the revellers, he managed to quickly access the back door of the Opera House without being seen. There she was. Still dressed in her performance costume and so beautiful!

Leon my love Maria cried out as they embraced. I have only a few minutes before I must be back for the curtain call. The plans, are they in place?

Yes, they are. All is now set in motion and no turning back. My grandfather has made the final arrangements. Go quickly my love and dance our Mazurka as you have never danced before. Leon said as he gently released her hand. And she was gone.

Eyes now open - his mind swirling. What had just happened? A dream, but it seemed so real, he could still feel the warmth of her hand. Why did this particular memory come to him now? Yes, the last streetcar having pulled in must have been the trigger – but why now? The memory was so vivid in recollection – he could not recall ever having such a primordial feeling before. It was not just a memory – he was sure time had stopped and he truly was back in time with his beloved. He looked at the icon above his pillow. The Black Madonna icon his mother gave him before he departed. He did not want to take it but his mother insisted that he must do so. He was grateful that mother had insisted.

It was time now. Leon was ready to open the red heart decorated shoe box. The next morning his body - cold to the touch would be found. Valentine cards from every year of their married life scattered across the bed.

Vienna January 1889

Andre

The weather was dismal once again in Vienna. Prince Rudolph was at his hunting lodge with yet another mistress. All of Vienna and the rest of the world would soon learn the Crown Prince of the Austrian-Hungary Empire, heir apparent to the throne was dead! While the citizens busied themselves with their daily routines, a tragedy of epic proportions was being played out behind closed doors.

Elsewhere, in a tiny first floor flat, a boy on the cusp of manhood was growing impatient and hungry. He sat up straight and rigid in his chair. Looking over his large desk strewn with study entrance papers for the military academy, his anger growing. He knew he was losing control and this only fueled his rage. He did not like to lose control. His mother was out and about but should have returned by now. He hoped she would bring his favourite beef boiled in broth for his dinner. Control and focus he repeated to himself. Arching his back, stretching out his neck from one side to the other. Deciding at that moment to break away from his studies, rationalizing it was too difficult to concentrate on an empty stomach. He needed to clear his head and take control before his mother returned. He needed a release now. Deep breath. Johanna, I will focus on Johanna. Closing his eyes, he slowly massaged his manhood. A doll-like creature with soft porcelain skin moaned softly, her naked body innocently opening herself to him, she trusting him to be gentle and loving.

Johanna belonged to her father, an arrogant banker who snubbed him by refusing to extend him a loan. Tired of living on a measly allowance that his mother received from his father, he thought his birthright would act as collateral. It was no secret to whom his father was. Adding insult to injury, the banker contacted his father—resulting in the delivery of a formal letter from the Palace with the threat of a full and total cessation of any future funds if he caused any further embarrassment to His and Her Royal Highnesses.

Andre was livid. Her Banker would be made to pay dearly for his imprudence. After all he was the one with Royal Blood. His quest was now focused on the most grievous manner on how best to extract revenge – take from your enemy what they covet the most. Sweet Johanna was her father’s fine porcelain doll yet to be unwrapped. He knew the unwrapping would be his sweet revenge. Seduction first, the unwrapping second, and the most pleasurable climax coming with the total annihilation of one’s enemy. If truth be told, He did not expect the silly girl to take her own life, even after telling her she was only a pawn in his plan to extract revenge against her father. She called him a beast, an animal a brute and a swine. He liked her spunk and thought they could make a good couple. She spat in his face and slammed the door behind her.

Too bad the silly girl jumped off the bridge. He did not feel any remorse when told of her demise. There will be others. Finding another muse to toy with would be a most pleasurable hunt. She was, after all, just a means to an end in extracting revenge. He felt no remorse for taking her virginity with the furiousness of a rapist. He wanted her to feel the pain so he could feel pure carnal pleasure. Reliving the seduction by pleasuring himself was just as enjoyable as the deflowering of the now dead and buried Johanna. Perhaps even better since he did not have to put up with her ridiculous tears. She was only a pawn in the game of revenge. He was not to blame for her weakness or her death—her father was the only person to blame.

He did not suffer from the profound anxiety many young people of both sexes seemed to be openly displaying in the past few months, much to their parents’ consternation. Suicides were becoming a favourite pastime of the people of Vienna. He saw this behaviour as a contagion spread to only those who were weak. He despised the weak. His mother was weak. His teachers were weak. Johanna was weak.

The occasional encounters in the dark-sleazy corridors of the Ottakring were becoming boring and beneath him. His stable of wealthy widows were still at his disposal, but he was growing weary of their demands. He would be rid of them if it were not for the handsome sums of guldens he received, as the service paid to him for mounting their decrepit arses. Secured safely beneath a floorboard in his room was a notebook where he tallied the encounters detailing his sexual conquests. Names, dates and minutiae details, a living testament to his genius. He was in control from beginning to end. But…. he needed to up the ante. Aware that his appetite knew no bounds. All the societal niceties of the day meant he must be discreet and in control. If there was one lesson he learned from his short-lived liaison with Johanna, was that revenge was sweet. He knew himself well enough to know his desire to acquire was the not the end game, it was the game! And if the prize was coveted by someone whom he grudgingly admired – the larger the gratification.

"Right, enough with reminiscing. Where is she!" he angrily shouted out loud. He composed himself quickly as the sound of keys jingling at the door caught his attention.

Finally, Mother, I am starving and not in a particularly good mood he said whilst holding up his hand, palm forward towards his mother.

Andre, please be a dear and take these parcels from my hands – Please do not be annoyed with me… I hope the beef broth is still warm enough for you to enjoy – I am sure it is, if not I can warm it up…it will take only a few minutes…. Oh, it really is miserable out there. It must have something to do with the rain, do you think it has something to do with the rain?

The rain. Mother, what are you rattling on about?

Another young person has taken his life; it truly is the season of suicides. I just do not understand why so many of our young people are throwing themselves off bridges. Andre, you would not be selfish as to take your own life, would you?

Mother, you may rest assured my life is too valuable to me. You have no reason to be concerned. Those who take their own lives are weak and the world is better off without them. Now may I eat my dinner in quiet contemplation, he stated not as a question